Now It's Really Over

I just got back from Brett and Tim's. It's technically Monday now. No more staying up until 6 AM, long after Brett has gone to sleep. Those days are over. I will miss them more than I can say.

We finished the apartment this afternoon. What a drive, knowing it was the last time I'd be making that trip. When I rang the buzzer, for the first time I noticed his last name was spelled wrong. It didn't feel like the apartment anymore, it was just a bunch of empty rooms. I'm glad I didn't see it when they were moving everything out, because I get to keep my memories of the last time I was there. But we cleaned and joked and talked about whatever memories came to mind. I said good bye one more time - I couldn't go into his room, not without him, but I stood in the doorway, said what I had to say, and we left. It was strange standing in the entry, looking in as the door was closing for good, and not seeing the couch and table and him sitting there.

Brett and I watched a movie tonight, go figure. But we also got to talk, just the two of us. It is something I've needed but wasn't able to have because Brett first needed to deal with things his own way. Maybe it worked out better that way. I don't really need to talk about what happened; now I need to talk about the memories. As much as I would love to have even just one more memory, the ones I do have are pretty kick-ass.

I haven't done this for a while, but I thought I'd end this post with a song. Brett played it for me last night and I really dig it.

Smoke - Ben Folds
Leaf by leaf and page by page
Throw this book away
All the sadness, all the rage
Throw this book away
Rip out the binding and tear the glue
All of the grief we never even knew
We had it all along
Now it's
Smoke

The things we've written in it
Never really happened
All the things we've written in it
Never really happened
All of the people come and gone
Never really lived
All the people come have gone
No one to forgive
Smoke

We will not write a new one
There will not be a new one
Another one, another one

Here's an evening dark with shame
Throw it on the fire
Here's the time I took the blame
Throw it on the fire
Here is the time we didn't speak
It seemed for years and years and
Here's a secret
No one will ever know the
Reasons for the tears
They are
Smoke

Smoke

Smoke

We will not write a new one
There will not be a new one
Another one, another one

Where do all the secrets live
They travel in the air
You can smell them when they burn
They travel
Those who say the past is not dead
Can stop and smell the smoke
You keep saying the past is not dead
Well stop and smell the smoke
You keep on saying the past is not even past and
You keep saying
We are
Smoke

Smoke

Smoke